


All The Trembling Bells of You Were Mine

by Grondfic



Category: Lord Peter Wimsey - Fandom, The Nine Tailors - Sayers
Genre: M/M, Uncategorized fandoms - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-17
Updated: 2010-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grondfic/pseuds/Grondfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did the events narrated in <i>The Nine Tailors</i> impact on the lives of the Ringers of Fenchurch St Paul? Some scenes from the life of Mr Walter Pratt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 1975 a Folk-Song Collector visits Mr Walter Pratt. Afterwards Walter remembers what took place sometime after the events narrated in _The Nine Tailors_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from a poem by Anne Sexton.

**Title: All The Trembling Bells of You Were Mine  
Fandom**: _The Nine Tailors_ by Dorothy L Sayers  
**Characters**: Walter, a Folksong Collector, mention of George Wilderspin (1975); Jack Godfrey, Wally Pratt, George Wilderspin, Ezra Wilderspin, Rev Venables, mention of Harry Gotobed, at least 3 other bellringers present but mute (1936).  
**Rating**: Harmless  
**Warnings**: Canon character death (which should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with the Fenchurch ringers).  
**Disclaimer**: The characters belong to whoever owns Sayers' copyright. I make no money. This is _homage_. Don't sue!

* * * *

**1975**

_As the song ends on a long-drawn final unwavering breath, a faint echo is stirred from the fine bone-china teacups that hang from a row of hooks on the welsh dresser. They give off a faint, sweet buzz, like thimble-sized bells. _

_The song-collector, a brash gangling youth with lank shoulder-length blond hair, flicks the off-button on the recorder; and laughs a trifle uneasily._

_"I'm not sure that'll improve the sound-quality!" he says._

_The singer regards him with dim-bright eyes._

_"They've allus done that," he observes, "Reminds me a church bells, that do."_

_"They say down the pub that you're a ringer as well as a singer!" comes the quipped reply._

_Walter purses his lips. He doesn't appreciate the Collector's sense of humour._

_"Ah," he responds sourly, "They'd say anything there! But – " he allows grudgingly, "they do say right this time, godless heathen though they be. I've pulled Batty Thomas these past forty year; and No 3 – the John-bell – afore that, man and boy. You might say they bells is like kinfolk."_

_"So you were around during all that business with the Wilbraham emeralds? I turned up some old articles in the Leamholt Herald the other day."_

_"Ah, thass all dead and buried now; and quite right too! No call to be raking that over."_

_"Yes, but did you ring THAT peal? The one that killed the guy?"_

_Walter rises - stiffly, but with dignity._

_"Ye've got what ye came for, Mister," he says quietly, "An' my songs'll travel to places and times where I can't. So now I'll bid ye good day!"_

_He holds the door for the Collector, who seems at last to recognise a brick wall, and gathers his equipment together. Just as Walter thinks he's got rid of the nuisance, he turns on the threshold._

_"So no one wrote a song about it?"_

_"Course not!" says Water, totally disgusted now._

_"Good!" says the youth unabashed, "Because I'm thinking I might write a folk-opera based on those events. They're MUCH more forthcoming in the 4-ale bar at the Red Cow, y'know. A guy called George Wilderspin – he's told me a lot."_

_Walter snorts._

_"Much he knows about it. He only rung Stedmans in they days. Didn't know a Kent Treble Bob from a Grandsire!"_

_"So you think he's told me wrong then?"_

_"Sure to. Allus had a mouth on 'im did George."_

_The Tempter smiles widely._

_"So why," he asks softly, "don't you tell me what REALLY happened back then in New Year 1934?"_

_Walter thinks back. He supposes that … things … DID kick-off some, with That Business. But his own best - his brightest - memories come from the years ARTER then. He wants to be alone to polish them once again._

_"Come back tomorrer," he suggests, "An' I'll mebbe remember you something!"_

* * * *

**1936**

"Now, boys," said Jack Godfrey to the assembled ringers of Fenchurch Saint Paul, as the bright sunlight drowned the ringing chamber in golden light, "You know how it is! Old Hezekiah – God rest his soul – has been gathered to his forefathers, like Rector says. That do mean Big Changes, boys; an' I've told Rector that the young'uns oughta have their chances along-a the older chaps! Question is, boys, who's to ring Tailor Paul?"

Young George Wilderspin wriggled his broad shoulders inside his mechanic's overalls. Walter, glancing sidelong, appreciated the muscles, whilst nonetheless finding Young George's attitude objectionable.

"T'isn't for me to say, a-course!" George was announcing, "But – if Father don't want her (him bein' wed to Little Gaude, so to speak) – I don't think you'll find anyone who's better set-up for the job than me! But – " he added pugnaciously, "John-Bell's my bell! Bin ringing No. 3 since afore Lord Wimsey come and rang Will Thoday down to van Leyden's Sluice!"

"That's not true!" Wally Pratt felt strongly enough to fight his corner on this, even over a low murmur of agreement from George's Father, the blacksmith, "'Twas ME what rang John-Bell on That New Year Peal … "

George Wilderspin sneered.

"Ah!" he said, "AND got into a muck-sweat an' wuss the first to get relieved by Rector!"

"At least t'were Kent Treble Bob!" muttered Wally resentfully.

"Boys, boys! Speak respectful now! They bells hang right above us; an' they don't take kindly to hard words! Come now – you'll both on ye ring Old Paul; an' we'll see how it goes. You'll know already that Harry Gotobed thinks that – by rights now that Old Hezekiah's gone – the Sexton oughta ring each Passing Bell on Old Paul!"

"Old idiot!" muttered George under his breath, "Whut's 'E know? 'Im and 'is coke all over the Chancel!"

"Well now, George!" Jack Godfrey gave no sign of having heard anything, "P'raps you'd Raise 'er and start! Wally – while George does that, you'll kindly oblige me by raising Batty Thomas! She do need some exercise, and that's a fact!"

Wally blinked. Batty Thomas was Jack Godfrey's own bell; the most venerable in the whole peal; and the most lethal. There were three human lives on Batty Thomas' tally. She was a bell to be respected – from sallie-tip to bronze clapper high above.

"You sure, Jack Godfrey?" he enquired cautiously.

Godfrey looked him up and down from the tips of his clumsy hobnails to his brylcreemed cowlick (now un-sticking itself and tumbling over his left eye). The man's intent scrutiny lightened, the grey eyes sparkling in their fine net of laughter-lines.

"Oh, I reckon so, Wally!" he said eventually, "Old Hezekiah – 'e thought the world a-you!"

"But … 'e ….?"

"I noticed special, Wally Pratt! Whoever Old Hezekiah reckoned was a goodun – that same man 'e hounded and bothered somethin' terrible! He done it to me, boy, in my young days. An' you – 'e thought you wuss worth the trouble too! Now – you'll pull Old Batty a coupla rounds; an' I'll do John-bell. Raise them, my boys, and let's wake the echoes as far as St Stephen!"

Wally stepped forward gingerly, set his hand on Batty Thomas' rope, and pulled – slow, gentle and sustained – until the sallie descended into his hand like an old friend's greeting. He was hardly aware of the grunts of the blacksmith's son hauling on Tailor Paul's massive anaconda of a rope until both bells spoke, almost simultaneously.

**BO!!** …… Bom …..

"Beat yer to it, Wally Pratt!" announced George.

"Well done, boys!" said Jack Godfrey, "George Wilderspin, you was a mite heavy on your haul; but mainly 'twas well done, the both on ye! Now then all – we'll ring a coupla rounds and a touch of the old 96, with me taking John-bell. Then we'll change over and hear Harry on Old Tailor Paul. Ready? Go!"

* * * *  
"Well now!" said Jack Godfrey, as Tailor Paul came back to her place for the final time, and the ringers stood, "Thankee boys. A right true peal, and no mistake! We tried it this way, and we tried it that! And now we've heard everyone, I'll tell you how 'twill be s'long as I'm Captain –

"Harry, you'll stay with Jericho. She'm your bell right 'nough! George Wilderspin, you take John-bell, but watch you don't imbrangle 'er in the Kent Treble Bob like you nearly just done! Wally Pratt – I'm trustin' you wi' Batty Thomas. I think you an' she'll deal well together. And – " he concluded, "I'll take Tailor Paul meself, just like Hezekiah done. All clear?"

A low buzz of surprise, not all of it delighted, went round the circle of men.

"Ah – may I come in? Is all well, Jack Godfrey?" the Rector's gentle tones preceded him into the chamber, "That last was as fine a peal as I've heard – worthy of Hezekiah indeed. Now – perhaps a short prayer of thanks for our lovely bells, and to ask the Lord for the strength to pull them, each man in the place appointed for him by our Captain? – _We thank Thee, Oh Lord, for the glory of these thy instruments of music_ …….."

Wally, eyes screwed closed and brain awhirl, hardly heard these douce ministrations. Batty Thomas! He couldn't believe it! What was Jack Godfrey thinking? Ah well, his not to reason why (as Ma would say); but it would mean a deal of work. Wally, concentrating at last, put up a devout prayer on behalf of his brain-pan that it be up to the job!

* * * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: All The Trembling Bells of You Were Mine  
Fandom**: _The Nine Tailors_ by Dorothy L Sayers  
**Characters**: Walter, a Folksong Collector (1975); Jack Godfrey, Wally Pratt, the Bells of Fenchurch Saint Paul (1936).  
**Rating**: Some awakening interest in various areas.  
**Disclaimer**: The characters belong to whoever owns Sayers' copyright. I make no money. This is _homage_. Don't sue!

* * * *

**1975**

_"So you weren't on the death-bell when you started out?" surmises the Collector unnecessarily._

_"Ain't I just telled you? No. 3 were my bell. Same as George Wilderspin had arter. John-bell, and a goodun for learning on. A busy bell. She done me well in our time together, did John."_

_"You make them sound like your wife or lover!" observes the Collector, "Especially since they're all 'she' to you, even with the masculine names."_

_He emits his irritating braying cackle of laughter._

_'A cross atween a donkey and a goose': thinks Walter: 'a Dongoose! Heh!'_

_Walter would like to a-told that to Jack Godfrey, although he doubts the farmer would-a known about mongooses in them days afore the telly! Even so – Jack's quiet sense of humour would have chimed-in with the word-play._

_Aloud, he merely replies –_

_"Bells is allus 'she'. And as to wives and such – I telled you – they're more like close kin!"_

_"Hmmm. So what about that New Year peal, then?"_

_Walter knows the full story; but has never spoken of it. That day when Jack Godfrey had taken him up to the Bell Chamber to meet Batty Thomas face-to-face, he'd heard all the bits of the tale that hadn't been made public._

_Across the years, he hears Jack's equable, mellow, soothing tones –_

_"You'm Batty's Ringer now! 'Tis right and proper you should know all of what she done ….. "_

_That's dangerous territory! Hastily, he wills himself to focus entirely on the Dongoose._

_He wants the nuisance out of his cottage, so that he can remember a day of pale gold and moving shadow; that day in the Bell Chamber when many things were made clear to him._

_"Come back tomorrer!" he commands, "An' I'll remember you what's fittin' you should know."_

* * * *

1936

"Arter you, Wally! 'T'is new to you; an' you might slip!" ordered Jack Godfrey.

Wally set heavy boots on the rungs of the ancient, trusty ladder, and emerged slowly into the clock-room, three of its four great windows pouring pale light in; the fourth quietly reflecting the stained glass from within the church below.

"Here now – let me!"

Jack Godfrey busied himself with unlocking the chain to the trapdoor above. Once the counterpoise had swung it open, he motioned Wally up the second ladder.

"Watch yourself, young Wally!" he warned.

Wally wasn't sure whether had had a head for heights, and consequently ascended this second ladder with extreme caution. He may even have closed his eyes at one point, because it was easier thus to concentrate on the warmth and solidity of Jack Godfrey's stocky torso behind him on the lower rungs. He felt inclined, like an unsteady toddler, to lean into the steadying hand that had spread briefly on his back.

"Take it slow, young Wally, and don't forget to breathe!"

Thus adjured and supported, Wally arrived by degrees at the centre and heart of a ringer's world – the bells themselves, held mouth-up in their frames by the motionless wheels.

"I'd f-forgot … " he whispered, half to himself, "How big ….. even Little Gaude!"

"Ah, fair to middlin'!" said Jack Godfrey from immediately behind him. "Tailor Paul's the real bigun – see, right over your head? Weighs over two-ton, Rector says."

Obediently Wally tilted his head back at an acute angle.

"Oh, Christ!" he muttered aloud, even though he knew the fine for the blasphemy would be sixpence.

She was Elemental; a hybrid child of Earth and Air.

He'd been up here before with the other ringers. How could he not have SEEN …?

"And Old Batty Thomas – there to your left!" murmured Jack Godfrey; and Wally, not daring to move his head in case the dizziness overtook him, swivelled wide-open eyes that way.

Smaller (but only by a few measly human degrees), she stood to her post; exuding a subtler, more sinister strength. The fleeting centuries wheeled like bats about her open mouth; and the shades of the violently-dead flitted and twittered above her in the roof beams.

She was untamed, savagely uncompromising and …….

"Lonely!" blurted Wally in an inappropriate yelp.

High above him, the sound transmuted into a shrill singing note. Wally shivered, fancying he could hear words echoing back at him from the ceiling. Jack Godfrey's right arm snaked around his waist; and he leaned back gratefully into the solid weight, as the comfort of a plain human voice added itself to the supernal debate above.

"Ah – I knowed t'would be you, Wally! I thought you'd See; and you'd find out all of Old Batty's sorrow!"

"Why her?" asked Wally (although the small child's _'why me?'_ was hovering near), "Why do she take that on, outa all the Eight?"

"She'm the eldest. She seen the most. I reckon all they others give her the job a-Retribution. Look, Boy – Sabaoth, John, Jubilee and Sweet Dimity – they all got heavy words in Popish Latin on their sound-bows, but they'm babies aside-a Old Batty!"

Jack Godfrey stepped back, taking his warmth from Wally, before continuing –

" 'T'is a hard, lonely fate, an'I reckon you need to know the sum of all she done! But first – sorry, Wally, I can tell you'm finding those ladders a trial, but you have to go aloft and meet her! I'll be greasing all on 'em, but I'll take you to Batty first and then grease her last, so's you'll have time. Arter – we'll take a pint or two at the red Cow – Alf Donnington'll find us a quiet corner – an' I'll tell you all about Old Batty!"

* * * *


	3. All The Trembling Bells of You Were Mine: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally's Song:  
> Wally based his song on _Ashwater Bells_, which deals with a group of ringers; and sang it to the tune (which mimics church bells).

**Title: All The Trembling Bells of You Were Mine  
Fandom**: _The Nine Tailors_ by Dorothy L Sayers  
**Characters**: Walter, a Folksong Collector (1975); Jack Godfrey, Wally Pratt, Alf Donnington (1936).  
**Rating**: 1975 Explanatory; 1936 Expository.  
**Disclaimer**: The characters belong to whoever owns Sayers' copyright. I make no money. This is _homage_. Don't sue!

* * * *

**1975**

_There's a sense of sly purpose about the Dongoose today. He addresses Walter as if he's privy to a secret they share._

_"So – Walter!" he begins, "The Wilbraham Emeralds! It's true – isn't it – that they were found in the roof of the church about twenty years after they went missing? And that Mrs Wilbraham died soon after, with the necklace clutched in her hand; and left them to Lord Peter Wimsey and ……"_

_"I know nort-a they lawyer-matters!" says Walter sharply, "You'll want-a be talking to Lady Thorpe a' they!"_

_"Ah, Walter, Walter! You're not being straight with me! Listen ……"_

_…. and to Walter's utter horror, he launches into a song._

_His voice is high, and he makes it quaver like that of an older man than Walter. Furthermore, he ornaments the tune with sundry trills and goat-bleats that Walter doesn't approve of. But the words (the ones Walter wrote himself to an old tune, and sings only alone to the farm-ghost here) sound clear and true in the stranger's mouth._

_'While my jewel lies sleeping I swear that I'll keep him  
So close in my heart as a tree to its bark.  
To no one confiding, my love I am hiding  
Like a necklace of emeralds lies hid in the dark._

_'T'is a secret to share, and a hard cross to bear,  
Like a bell giving tongue for the death of a man,  
Who's pent in the steeple, his brain going feeble,  
His life cut away from its natural span!'_

_The Dongoose stops, takes a delicate sip from his glass of the last of Walter's peggle-wine, and grins._

_"Shall I go on?" he asks, "I have a good memory for words, and the tune is well-known!"_

_Walter, betrayed, remembers that he sang Jack's Song after the Dongoose had (apparently) left yesterday evening. He'd felt so close to the farm-ghost that he'd almost heard Jack's husky baritone joining in the chorus._

_"It's a good conceit, that!" the Dongoose's bray interrupts, "Making it into a young maid's concealed-love song! But – come on, Wally Pratt – those similes are telling a meta-story, aren't they?"_

_"Dunno what you mean!" says Walter stolidly._

_"It's all about the emeralds and that chap who was found dead and buried in Lady Thorpe's grave! The papers thought he mighta been up there looking for those emeralds! Now then, Wally – someone who can write such a subtle song with all that Subtext surely knows a thing or two! You rang in the Fatal Peal, didn't you? Tell me how it felt to kill a man with the force of music!"_

_Walter snatches a quick gasp; and then a much longer, calming breath ['Remember to breathe, my Boy, my Jewel!']. In his haste to grab greedily at those cursed emeralds, the Dongoose has overlooked the obvious!_

_Walter will try his best now to spare Rosie Thoday and Evie West (nee Thoday); but only if the Dongoose leaves him and Jack Godfrey out of the story._

_"Well!" he says resignedly, "'T'is true I wrote they words. A folk-opera, you say? How much'll your record company pay if you decides to use the bits-a my song that I think might be rightfully part-a the tale ……..?"_

* * * *

1936

"Alf! Alf Donnington! A glass-a brandy for young Wally, please!"

"You've telled him then, Jack Godfrey?"

"Ah. He'm a bit shook-up, like."

"Anyone would be!" opined the landlord, plonking two small glasses of brown liquid on the table.

"K-k-killed a man …." stuttered Wally, "ALL on us …..!"

"Now then young Wally, don't go takin' that to heart so!" adjured Jack Godfrey, "We ALL done that, like you say – you and Ezra Wilderspin no less'n me and Hezekiah Lavender hisself! Even RECTOR took a hand!

"T'weren't our fault, Wally! T'wouldn't surprise me if Reverend didn't call that _'an Act of God'_. They bells can't stand the presence of evil, is what he'd say! So just you drink that down – in one, mind! – an' I'll tell you the rest: who that dead man was, and how he come to be a-lying in Lady Thorpe's grave, handless and faceless!"

Wally shivered. He wasn't sure he wanted to know any more. However, he raised the small glass obediently, and bolted the lot.

Jack Godfrey waited patiently until the spluttering died away, before politely sipping from his own tiny glass.

"Bracing!" he commented, wrinkling his nose, "But for pure delight, Young Wally, you can't do better than Missus Ashton's peggle-wine! I got some back home, an' once we're finished here, you'd best come along-a me and sample it! Now then – I'll tell you where they danged old emeralds come into it; an' Miss Hilary an' all ……… "

* * * *


	4. All The Trembling Bells of You Were Mine: 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Peggles_ are cowslips. Mrs Maria Ashton talks about making peggle-wine in _The Nine Tailors_.

**Title: All The Trembling Bells of You Were Mine  
Fandom**: _The Nine Tailors_ by Dorothy L Sayers  
**Characters**: Walter, a Folksong Collector (1975); Jack Godfrey, Wally Pratt (1936).  
**Rating**: There's a Significant Development in 1936.  
**Disclaimer**: The characters belong to whoever owns Sayers' copyright. I make no money. This is _homage_. Don't sue!

* * * *

**1975**

_Wally's had a whole evening and night to work out his story by the time the Dongoose once again breaks in on him, waving that devil's recording machine._

_"Now then, Wally Pratt ….!" he begins._

_"That'll be MISTER Walter Pratt to you, young man! Just a-cause you broke with good manners by listening-in t'other night don't mean you can lose your respect any more for that!"_

_He glares; and won't back down, even when the Dongoose pantomimes Contrition with big eyes and a subtle grin. Finally the youngster breaks eye-contact with a sigh._

_"You win, MISTER Pratt! Now ….. about those emeralds ……?"_

* * * *

**1936**

"Sit down, Wally, while I gets the peggle-wine from the cellar. Sorry about the mess, but Missus and the girls're away visiting relatives."

Wally perched nervously on one of the solid wooden kitchen chairs; his eyes half-hypnotised by the way the twinkling gas-light caught the hanging cups on the welsh dresser.

His head was whirling with a potent mix of Donnington's best tapped beer, brandy, and disturbing knowledge. In the meantime, his gut was churning with a barely-acknowledged excitement that he hardly understood; but which had to do with the remembered warmth of Jack Godfrey's stocky torso pressed close to his back in the Bell-chamber earlier on.

"Here, you are, Wally! Try this, an' tell me what you think!"

Jack Godfrey planted before him a dainty glass, bell-shaped and delicately engraved with a shallow motif of wreathed cowslips around the lip. It brimmed with a pale, straw-gold liquid that sparkled through the crystal and bubbled with a faint effervescence on its surface. Wally raised it to his lips.

"Take it sip by sip! This ain't Alf Donnington's brandy!"

Wally sipped obediently…..

….. and was transported to the brief, butterfly brilliance of a late spring in the fens, when the oft-sodden meadows would spring suddenly into bud and bloom.

"Ahhhh!" was all he could say as he lowered the glass and, shyly, met Jack Godfrey's eyes.

"Good, eh?"

Wally, tongue loosened by spirituous liquors, dared a small tease by way of reply.

"Fair to middlin'!"

The faint lines at the outer corners of Jack Godfrey's eyes sprang suddenly into view like miniature sunbeams as he emitted his friendly-sheep-dog bark of laughter.

"That give me my own again, young Wally! There's more in that head a-your'n than just nerves and Kent Treble Bob! I told Rector you was good and ready for Old Batty, and by God, I wuss right! Tell me, Boy – your folks is all Chapel, ain't they? So how is it ye're well-in with us Church-chaps?"

"The bells!" replied Wally simply, "Every week, and some evenings, I heerd them – even down to Tupper's End ever since I can remember. So, when the time come, I just …. I just ….. "

"Walked in on Rector and asked, from what I heerd!"

"Ah! And then …. I seen the Angels in the roof! Lord, how that do take the eye, to be sure!"

"Your folks got anything to say?" enquired Jack, motioning Wally to take a further sip of Earthly Delight.

"Nah. My Pa died in the War; and Uncle Bob, who took the tenancy, don't care neither one way nor t'other! Mind – he knows a good whack a-songs!" he sipped again, and added – "He'm in The Union, though!"

"Quite right too!" said Jack Godfrey, "Though I mebbe says so as shouldn't – me being Farmer's Union an' him being Agricultural Workers!"

"Miss Hilary, she say the same – though Mr Edward and the Land Agent – they don't like it so much."

"Now, you listen, young Wally! Ye're a day-labourer ain't you? Well then – you stick to your own, and what'll get you the most good! Next time Old Snoot the Land Agent tells you he only got a half-day's work on the Estate – you tell'm you'm working for me this week! I hear tell you'm a fair worker wi' wood; so you can start on all my fences in the mornin'! An' arter that, I 'spec Luke Ashton'll have something! You c'n sleep in the milk-shed loft, young Wally; but for tonight – since Missus and the little'uns ain't here – there's room in the house!"

Wally blinked.

"But Ma …..!" he objected.

"Wally! You'm – what? – twenty now! Time to be takin' your own life in hand, as well as Batty Thomas's rope, I'd say! I got a good stew brewing on the hob and – allus allowing you'll give a hand at arternoon milking – time to spend on this peggle wine! What d'ye say?"

Wally replied with a small squeak. He was – it was true – a man now! And also; behind Jack Godfrey's sound advice lay …. something ……

He stood up a trifle unsteadily, and took a step closer.

"There's somethin' else?" he said uncertainly.

"I knows that, boy! I seen you – how you looked sideways at George Wilderspin's shoulders as he mishandled Tailor Paul; and measured up Dick Gotobed – yes – an' even Old Ezra! That's not the way of it, my jewel! Ezra's a family man wi' a stout Missus and a brace-a little'uns!"

"So're you!" blurted Wally.

"Ah – so you'm not stupid, my boy! So I am! 'T'is all bound up wi' land and inheritance, that! And yet – and yet - though God, Squire, Rector an' Inspector Blundell may lie atween, there's still this … Other Thing! 'T'is not easy – a hard cross to bear; but a secret to share! What d'ye say, Wally Pratt? You'm like a yearling-colt; knowing your own strength and wildness; and yet not sure how All works 'till you'm bridled and broke! Wi' horses we just do it. But with a man, you asks first! So – will I ring your changes an' show you the ropes, young Walter?"

Wally took a deep breath; and as he let it out in an ecstatic sigh, passed imperceptibly into manhood.

"Yes!" he remembered to say.


	5. All The Trembling Bells of You Were Mine: 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. _"the secrets of the marriage bed"_. Like Sayers in a similar situation (cf. _Busman's Honeymoon_) I have chosen to fade-to-black in this case. The characters are both shy and repressed; and possessed of a fairly straightforward Christian faith - what more do you want?
> 
> 2\. _'Mechanical Protection'_: The Mechanical-Copyright Protection Society (MCPS) is responsible for collecting and paying royalties to composers, songwriters and music publishers when the music they have created is sold.

**Title: All The Trembling Bells of You Were Mine  
Fandom**: _The Nine Tailors_ by Dorothy L Sayers  
**Characters Part 5**: Jack Godfrey/Wally Pratt (1936); **Epilogue**: Walter, Tom Tebbutt, George Wilderspin (1975)  
**Rating**: Fade-to-black in 1936.  
**Disclaimer**: The characters belong to whoever owns Sayers' copyright. I make no money. This is homage. Don't sue!

* * * *

**1936**

Between a choice of Mortal Sins, and his recent ecstasy, Wally slept very little. He was broad awake well before sunup, still pondering; trying to do it noiselessly and immovably.

"Wally?"

Wally gave up all pretence.

"Sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep, Boy. What's biting you, eh? A-cause it won't be bed-bugs – not in this bed!"

"Will we go to Hell, Jack?" blurted Wally.

"Ah, now – what sin you reckon you done? Is it Jeff Deacon, or is it Us?"

"Well … " Wally hesitated.

"Here!" Jack's voice sharpened suddenly, "Don't tell me you decided that you was in Mortal Sin anyway – on account-a Jeff Deacon – so may as well get the good on it wi' me?"

Wally – painfully truthful – pondered this long enough to discompose Jack.

" 'T'is like this, Jack," he said finally, "I seen as how all on us bellringers done a Mortal Sin atween us, but unknowing, like. So I thought – as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. If Old St Peter take the hard view when I get to they Gates, then I'm no worse for this Other! But if not … well …. SURELY the splendour and the …. " he paused, half-terrified, and then plunged on - " …. the LOVE of it, can't be anything of the Devil! I seen your face …. and …and … 't'was exactly the same as they angels up there in the roof!"

Wally, lying-back-to-chest with his lover, felt Jack exhale in a long gasp.

"Jack ..?" he began again anxiously.

"You'm a jewel, sure 'nough, boy! There's none in all the Fenchurches – not one! – who'd-a answered me so brave, nor so sweet nor so comforting! 'T'won't be an easy path for either on us. We transgress the laws of the land, as well as – that other. But if you'll walk it wi' me I swear you won't regret it, for my part at anyrate!"

"I've knowed this be my road, Jack, since ever-so! 'T'were never lasses wi' me – though I tried hard as I could. But none-a them were half so .. interesting as George Wilderspin's shoulders. Although, " he added thoughtfully, "I think he mebbe isn't my type arter all!"

Jack laughed so hard that the ancient bed-frame creaked in exact time and rhythm.

"Wally!" he said finally, "You'm more on a find than they emeralds hid away in the dark, and that's the truth! And I'll hold you close as bark on a tree! Now then – allus allowing the cows'll wait a longish while, I've a mind to learn you a few things – to know what'll best pleasure us and …. "

"How'd you come to know, Jack? Not round here, surely?"

"No – I went away in my young days to the Big City ….."

"Walbeach?" gasped Wally, awed.

"This time, Jack's laughter actually shifted the solid bed several inches, squealing across the wooden floor.

"LUNNON, boy! Where no-one cares what you does. Ah 't'is Sodom and Gomorrah right 'nough; but even so, there's freedom and even beauty there!"

"Well then," said Wally, daring at last to be flirtatious, "Mebbe ye'd best learn me some-a they Lunnon-ways, Jack Godfrey?"

* * * *

**Epilogue**

1975

_Walter has never been a great man for pubs, even in his younger days. The Four-Ale-Bar of the Red Cow is thus unfamiliar territory as he ventures in alone._

_Tom Tebbutt – well past retirement, but still doing a bit of glass collecting and instructing of his son in A Landlord's Duties, greets Wally in some surprise._

_"Well now, Wally, 't'isn't often we see you in here! What can we get you?"_

_"Half of Abbott's," says Walter, "And another of whatever George Wilderspin's drinking!"_

_Tom Tebbutt roars the order the length of the bar to the barmaid; a manoeuvre which brings George in person out of the alcove behind the darts board._

_"Wass-all this, Wally Pratt?"_

_Walter looks him up and down. His stalwart figure and interesting shoulder-muscles have run sadly to fat in recent years._

_"Reckon you knows why, George Wilderspin!"_

_The garage proprietor accepts the refill to his pewter quart-pot, and plonks his noble weight down on the inadequate stool at Walter's table. He takes a long pull at the mug, lets out a long 'Aaaaaaaaah', and raps the pewter smartly onto the rickety table, half-empty._

_"Reckon I might do, at that!" he admits, "So that pillock's gone then, 'as 'e?"_

_"Ah. 'Im and 'is recordings! Still and all – I got copyright on some-a my songs. Pulled in Kevin Russell my solicitor from over to Leamholt, and he bring my Mechanical Protection Paper! So I got a bit-a cash to spare! And – since you only telled him what might be termed 'strictly necessary', I thought a quart might not come amiss, George Wilderspin!"_

_"Ah – and welcome, Wally Pratt! I did take care never to let the words 'Will Thoday' nor yet 'Jeff Deacon' pass my lips!"_

_"There weren't no questions about Jack Godfrey, neither," says Walter softly, "That-there Dongoose thinks My Jewel song is a young maid! I'll be singing all on it, on his Folk Opera recording!"_

_"Never tell me you give him Jack's Song?"_

_"Why not? I wrote it; and 't'was Jack's story alright – same like Hezekiah, and your Dad, and Rector Venables (God rest his soul), and poor old Joe Hinkins as bought-it in the Hitler-war!"_

_"You'm totally right, Wally; an' it won't be George Wilderspin as'll tell any mincing Dongoose any different. Here's to you!"_

_He raises his mug, and downs the rest._

_"Another?" he suggests to Walter._

_"Thank you kindly. Ask Tom Tebbutt if they got any Missus-Ashton Ltd peggle-wine. 'T'isn't as it oughta be these days, but none the less …. "_

_The two elderly gentlemen sigh in unison._

_" 'T'is Jack's anniversary this week!" reminds George, "Will you be wantin' to ring the Nine Tailors on Old Paul in memory, like?"_

_"That'd be my wish, George Wilderspin!"_

_"Righto! I'll tell new Rector 't'is bell practice on Tuesday. An that 't'is an Ancient Folk Custom an' all! He'll lap it up …… "_


End file.
